


Show Me Relief // BDSM -- Day 5 Prompt

by KristleTribble



Series: Hetalia Valentine's Event - 2020 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Edgeplay, Foreign Language, French Kissing, Frottage, Gags, Gentle Kissing, Gratuitous Smut, Light BDSM, M/M, Overstimulation, Riding, Rope Bondage, Undressing, Vibrators, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristleTribble/pseuds/KristleTribble
Summary: Sigurd and Lars have been dating and going vanilla for some time, until one day the Norwegian offers a way of spicing up their intimate life. Lars is more than curious to see what his boyfriend has up his sleeve, and it's nothing he'll end up regretting...
Relationships: Netherlands/Norway (Hetalia)
Series: Hetalia Valentine's Event - 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620070
Kudos: 16





	1. Part 1

"Sig, would you like to explain to me why you sent me this at work?"

The Norwegian looked up coyly at his boyfriend in the middle of eating a salad, mouth open slightly in surprise, and eyes looking keenly for clues.

"You know, the link with a list of 'games'," Lars clarified, as his phone was passed across the table. "This message here. Why'd you want me to see it?"

The taller of the two looked sternly at the screen, his own hands paused in the middle of consuming some soup, with the spoon hovering idly in the warm and earthy broth. It smelled like mushrooms, and happened to be a favorite of the two men.

Sigurd smirked playfully and lowered his gaze onto his own bowl of soup. "Just some ideas we could try out, if y'wanted." A strand of his bangs fell out of line. "A friend of mine passed it on to me as a joke, sayin' I was ‘the most vanilla guy’ he knew."

That caught the Dutchman's interest.

"Oh?" he started quietly, "I never knew you to have an affinity for weird shit, Sig. We've been pretty normal."

"That's what I'm getting at, Lars," Sigurd murmured, and he settled his fork back into his greens. "I'm thinking about spicin' things up a little between us, seein' as it could be a learnin' experience. Thoughts on it?" His blue eyes trained expectantly upon his partner, curiosity taking hold of his focus. He scanned the other's reaction.

The taller man sat back in his kitchen chair and mused over it for a moment, looking out the window in consternation. "We could. But no degradation, an' I'm not gonna eat your ass or anything like that. I think that's disgusting."

Sigurd huffed with a chuckle. "Please, I'd never. Besides, that isn't what I had in mind anyways."

The Norwegian rose out of his chair with a mild scrape on the floor, and calmly padded over to his boyfriend. He straddled himself quite plainly on Lars' lap, looking sweetly over the man's thoughtful face, one hand coming up to trace at the forehead scar.

"Then what did you have in mind?" Lars placed his hands over the shorter's waist protectively, voice a little itty-bit testy. "I'm not telepathic, you know."

"It's straightforward enough, Lars," Sigurd murmured softly again, nose going to graze against the other's throat.

"I'd like to tie you up and take all the tension out of that big body of yours."

* * *

If Sigurd would have said that any more huskily, Lars wouldn't have been able to handle such a request. The mere thought of it sent the man's heart beating desperately with anticipation, making his palms sweat where they were normally cool and dry.

But he assented nonetheless, because he was secretly curious too.

Sigurd's hands worked diligently, tying the Dutchman's wrists to the headboard of their shared bed. "Is this fine?" he whispered quietly, a kiss brushing up on Lars' forehead.

Ah, what the hell?

"Do my legs too."

The Norwegian's slender eyes blinked in a second-guess, his bare arms a bit chilly from the draft in the dim bedroom. "Are y'sure?"

"...Yeah," Lars mumbled, shifting to get more comfortable. "I don't want to half-ass this."

Sigurd almost purred with delight at that, feeling excited. "Happy to hear it, _kjaere_." He left the bedside briefly to fetch more rope, cradling the taller's leg gently.

Lars nudged his free knee against the Norwegian's shin mischievously, holding back a grin.

It bought a quiet huff and a little smile from the other, who cast his gaze over his clothed boyfriend, fitted with sweatpants and a tight-fitting cotton tank top. "Y'should let me know if it gets too cold in here, alright?"

The Dutchman nodded slightly, letting himself relax as his ankles were secured to the other end of the furniture. His head fell back and was cushioned by a couple of small pillows, crocheted with a blue and red pattern. "I don't think that'll be a big deal, Sig."

As Sigurd continued to work with the ropes, Lars let his mind wander a bit along the contents of their shared room, his eyes falling on the outline of the drawer where he knew his lover kept his kerchiefs and ties. When the Norwegian was finished, the Dutchman cleared his throat.

"Do me another request?" His voice was slightly rough in the quiet.

"Hm?" Sigurd bent over from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, hand splayed with feather-light pressure over the Dutchman's chest. " _Ja, min elskling_?"

"Take one of your ascots and tie it in my mouth."

The blonde blinked in surprise again, before letting out a little puff of air, and going across the carpet. "Any preference?" he inquired. "I still have th'one from this week's formal gathering left out."

Lars turned his head and thought for a moment, long legs stretching in their restraints. "If that's the one where you wore that one cologne, then yeah. That one." He could feel how Sigurd's hands were slightly cold against his neck as his head was lifted up, the ascot being tied in the appropriate fashion around his neck, first.

"How'm I to know if things get to be too much, Lars?"

"I'll shake my head like yes or no," he answered, blinking up at Sigurd's endearing face. "Promise."

That garnered a smile from the other, who planted another kiss on Lars' forehead. The Norwegian's chill fingers curled into the patterned fabric, riding it up, over the chin, and then it was finally fixed over Lars' mouth, leaving his nostrils open for safety.

"I'm going to get changed into m'nightrobe then. Shouldn't be long."

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations // Saved these for the notes for immersion's sake
> 
> Norwegian:
> 
> kjaere = dear, (my) love, darling  
> min elskling = my lovely, darling


	2. Part 2

Lars' mind went wandering again in Sigurd's absence, shivering as the cold from the window crept upon his prone form. If he focused and closed his eyes, he could imagine that the Norwegian was running his hands faintly along his arms and neck, ghosting along his jawline.

The anticipation from it all was starting to get to him, and Lars could feel his heart thumping inside of his prone body.

Soon enough, the sound of the bedroom door opening reached his ears, and Lars' eyes flitted open to see Sigurd approaching him wordlessly.

The Dutchman could see the man's collarbone exposed from where he lay, the ambient light from the window illuminating where his pale skin was bare.

The Norwegian leaned in with one knee upon the sheets, face close to Lars and caressing it with soft palms.

"Hey....how are you today?" he softly whispered into Lars' ear, breath tickling the hairs on the back of the man's neck. It made the the more restricted of the two exhale breathily, shivering the tiniest bit at how moist his voice sounded. Sigurd's voice almost sounded like cake... if that was even possible.

Lars looked up inquiringly at Sigurd when the shorter's hand wandered to caress the man's inner thigh, eyes betraying his anticipation. "Mm... a little hot n' bothered are we? That's no fun... bein' left alone like this..."

"...why don't I help you with that, hm?" Sigurd whispered thickly.

The Dutchman's eyes narrowed in mirth and he snorted, amused by Sigurd's sweet display of affection. This garnered its own amused response from the Norwegian, who pressed his hips into Lars' side with the slightest test of neediness. "Oh come on, " he smirked knowingly, "if you want this to work properly, you'll have to listen. And you'll have to do as I say."

Forest eyes met ocean ones at those statements, an unspoken battle for who was really in control. Fun and games.

"Do we have a deal?" Sigurd whispered again, nose brushing against Lars' ears... it was a matter of sensitivity. The Norwegian knew how much he could get his boyfriend going with his voice alone, let alone a bit of sensation in the right areas.

Drawing away to see Lars clearly, Sigurd saw the man nod yes, though his eyes shone defiantly. Challenging. 'Bet you can't get me to burst,' they seemed to say.

"Good," Sigurd's lips turned up cattily. "Now, follow my directions: relax and enjoy yourself."

Soon, the sounds of the blonde kissing at Lars' neck emanated lightly into the room. His slightly rough and chapped lips nibbled playfully along the Dutchman's throat, tickling at the man's skin. There were little pops from the wetness of Sigurd's mouth closing here and there, his hands gently massaging the shoulders beneath.

Lars breathed out steadily when the shorter teased at a point right in the crook of the man's neck, his eyes closing in delight. Sigurd let out a little chuckle at that, and redoubled his efforts, bringing himself atop of his boyfriend's stomach, and letting his robe fall a smidge open.

Sigurd's mouth continued to work with almost agonizing slowness, teasing the man with delightful little wet noises and licks here and there.

The Dutchman's eyes wandered over how the body above him sat, as he was mostly helpless to change anything. He could only see the fringe at the back of Sigurd's head, the man continuing to suck and sample at the bundle of nerves near Lars' trapezium. His breath was warm, inviting and just a hint needy, cold and pale hands nudging under the hem of the tank-top.

Lars shivered as the fabric was bunched upwards, past his ribs, the buds of his chest, coming to rest upon his collarbone in a dark line of cotton. Sigurd sat back, and gazed upon it all.

His boyfriend, arms above his head, looking up with curiosity and excitement, and -- yes, there it was. Sigurd rolled down just a hair and confirmed that Lars was also very much aroused too. It was good to know, Sigurd mused, that this man wasn't any less whipped for him.

The blonde leaned in, a sweet smirk on his face, as he placed his hand tenderly upon Lars' pectorals. "Good, mm, now I can love on even more of you," whispered Sigurd sensually, and several long kisses to the Dutchman's chest ensued. The Norwegian's mouth traveled over to an exposed nipple, which he sucked at gently.

Lars' nose let loose the equivalent of a huff at that gesture, cheeks having already started to redden. His eyes looked down at Sigurd with a growing amount of both denial and gratitude -- he didn't think something like this was going to be so damn hot, but Sigurd was proving him oh-so-wrong.

Oh-so-very-wrong.

Sigurd's throat let loose a moan and it rumbled against Lars' skin, causing the man's breath to hitch, and his abdomen coiled in a twitch. There was a clue that Sigurd was getting turned on by this too. The green-eyed man could almost smell it in the air.

The Norwegian's tongue was last to leave the now hardened bud at the front of Lars' body, and he gazed down through thick eyelashes, tracing the enamoured expression on his lover's partially hidden face, and the marks of blue sprouting on his neck.

"You look a little tense, calm down," the shorter man softly chided, hands calmly resting over the chest beneath him. And the Dutchman did so, his body returning to the sheets in full. He let Sigurd's weight help along with that.

"We've yet to get to the fun stuff..." also ghosted off the blonde's lips.

Jade irises watched as Sigurd continued his lustful ministrations, Lars growing increasingly aware of what sounded like raggedness in his boyfriend's breathing. That agonizing tongue returned to giving out little swirls along the man's chest, going to the other nipple and pleasuring it in like kind.

When Sigurd's wet tongue met this bud, Lars didn't even try to fight the jerking motion that fired up his body, his throat finally letting out a small whine that petered out into the darkness of the room. The taller let his face bury partially into a pillow, head turned to try and muffle himself.

It was an endearing effort. "Lars..." his boyfriend softly called, "Stop that. I want to hear you." Sigurd matched this with another swirl to the same reddening bud, and another moan, this one executed in time with a roll of hips on hips -- a combination Lars couldn't refuse.

This all had the Dutchman whining again, a little rough sound from the back of his throat. He looked down with glistening and half-lidded, tortured gaze, feeling that he had a proper tent in his sweats going now. Every little motion that Sigurd made when he leaned forward pressed against Lars, and it was finally starting to drive the man crazy with desire.

When a quiet murmur, a desperate murmur, of "Yes...!" came from Sigurd's mouth, working on the Dutchman's neck again, Lars was inclined to take his own initiative, if briefly, his arms tensing. He let his pelvis roll upwards into Sigurd's unsuspecting form, eliciting a little gasp and groan of surprise. "Ah...! Lars, mm, you're a bit harder than I thought you were...."

The Norwegian rested his elbows on the mattress, dragging down the ascot from his boyfriend's face, and desperately melding their lips together, chuckling bemusedly as tongues began to lick against each other. When Lars hummed and his breath caught, Sigurd teased him just that much more, another roll coming down on the Dutchman's sweats.

"You're.... mm... so good..." Sigurd whispered out humidly, his bangs shielding his view of anything else but Lars' desperate face. "You taste... so good..."

Lars took the opportunity to voice his own opinion, his mouth free for a bit. "Fuck, you're telling me Sig..... how long're you gonna draw this out, mph...!" His hips couldn't help but twitch upwards, and they both let out a breathy moan.

The Norwegian smiled knowingly, eyes dark even in the shaded room. "Be patient, my dear, uff...!" Their hips stuttered again. "You'll...see... open... your mouth... wider, mm..."

Their lips claimed each other again, teeth clicking lightly, and brows furrowed in sexual frustration. Lars gasped as the Norwegian seated above him started to suck on his tongue, driving the man practically batshit with infatuation.

Oh, Sigurd knew damn well what he was doing now. It would be up to Lars to return the favor later.... fully! The man vowed this to be a certainty!

Sigurd's lips popped off of the tip of that muscle inside Lars' mouth with a pretty gratuitous sound, the Norwegian leaning back to see how ruined his Dutch boyfriend looked so far. The man beneath him stared back needily, green eyes dilated and lips shining and faintly hairy and tanned chest heaving with breath.

"My god..." Sigurd whispered airily. "You're so fuckin' delicious, y'know that?"

Lars snorted and tossed his head in response. "Same goes to you, muffin. If I wasn't tied up like this, I'd be makin' you into pound cake."

"If y'gonna talk smack to me, Dutchie, I'll put that kerchief back on you," Sigurd whiffed, clearly amused with the amount of arousal mixed into his lover's sass. "Don't make m'do it, Lars."

"Well I want you to, muffin. Put it on and get it on," was the playful reply from the exposed Dutchman, accompanied by another defiant roll, which had the Norwegian bouncing a bit.

"Fuck...! Settle down, uff..." Sigurd hastily clambered forward, fixing that ascot right back over his boyfriend's shit-eating grin. Lars' eyes twinkled with hidden laughter, and the taller of the two seemed to fidget and barely contain his mirth.

Sigurd sighed quietly, and climbed off of Lars to go rummage in the nightstand, sitting himself between the restrained man's legs with a vibrating toy and some lube. "Since y'put on an attitude, I'm gonna have to play back."

Lars at first offered a confused look, which all too fluidly transitioned into a gaze of both lust and understanding. When his eyes locked on the items in Sigurd's hands, his breath quickened up again, arms tensing in their hold.

Sigurd set aside the items for now, leaning down on his palms to mouth at the bulge in his partners' sweats. Slowly, the fabric began to soak up spit, and the Norwegian could almost taste at the contents if he focused.

The man receiving this gesture couldn't help but whine again once he felt the sensation of something wet on his cock, arms tensing again, and eyes looking defiantly down at Sigurd's teasing gaze.

"Hold still, will you?" the blonde asked sweetly, stretching his jaw and taking as much of that tent as he could, fondling at the mass with his tongue through the wool of the sweatpants, hair sticking to his fanned eyelashes. When Lars' hips stuttered and tried to get more friction, the Norwegian pulled up and away, putting both of his hands on the Dutchman's thighs. "Well if you won't hold still, then I'll have to make you."

Now his hands came up to push down on Lars' hips, pinning them to the sheets, and the Norwegian grunted as he rubbed his own erection, hidden by the robe, against Lars' nether regions. Several seconds passed as Sigurd all but teased himself on his partner, who looked down and tried to sneak a glimpse of what was pushing into him, jade eyes desperate and shining.

The shorter of the two saw that gaze, and with a breathy, sweet moan, he matched it. Sigurd rutted up against Lars again with a more intense force, and then twice more, each time feeling his body heat up further. It was safe to say that neither of them would need to worry about the draft in the room.

Eventually Sigurd backed off, pushing the sweats up and over Lars' knees, and readjusting himself in front of what looked to be a pair of quite tightly packed boxers. It drew a knowing gaze from the Norwegian, who kissed and breathed his way down the side of Lars' thick thighs.

Those chapped lips came back onto the tented boxers, mouthing again, tongue dipping down with dripping, pleasurable sounds. "Lars, do you like the feeling of my tongue on you?" Sigurd all but purred, knowing fully well what the answer was.

Each time the Norwegian moaned against the fabric, Lars could feel his member twitch against the tongue and teeth and warm breath and spit, eyes almost fully shut out of how damn good it felt. His lungs heaved mightily, nostrils flaring and narrowing in a heated rhythm.

Sigurd drew away again, but before Lars could whine in protest, the Norwegian's hands came down to palm against the bulge of the man's boxers, fingers going by muscle memory and by the sounds he was hearing his man make.

A thumb running along the rib of Lars' cock had him screwing his brows in delight, toes curled and eyes dark with desire.

"This is what y'get for bein’ so stubborn, Lars," Sigurd admonished humidly, breath ghosting on Lars' thigh. His fingers worked on, pinky hedging on the waistband of the underwear. "I'm goin’ to tease th'ever-livin' hell out of you."

After Sigurd's fingers leached another moan from Lars' throat, the Norwegian smirked. "Y'know, these fit y’so snugly. I can see everything through this, can feel at it..." Punctuated by the cupping of Lars' balls, which sent the man spasming a bit with unexpected sensation. "Makes me want to taste at it..."

With another smirk, the Norwegian took away that final layer of clothing, riding Lars' wetted boxers past the knees as well, and Sigurd made a second adjustment so that he could stay close to the action. It was here that he took up the toy, popped open the lube, and began to coat the end with the gel.

He took in the sight of his boyfriend, all vulnerable, and needy, nothing like he normally was. And that's probably what made Sigurd aroused more than anything -- it was the knowledge that he alone could get Lars like this for him, cock twitching and out, legs pulled up on the end of the bed, and that normally stern face opened up to a new spectrum of delicious expressions.

Sigurd rewarded his boyfriend with a quick lick up that throbbing member, from base to head, smirking all the while. Lars whimpered in response, feeling so good, but it just wasn't enough!

The Norwegian sighed out, now teasing his boyfriend's hole open with the flexible toy, watching Lars' expression closely as he went. The Dutchman's breath stuttered as he was penetrated deeper, and deeper, inch by inch, until eventually he could feel most of the sheath of the toy, slick inside of him, giving a full-ish sensation that left the man's mind whirring with both pleasure and a stretching pain.

The gaze that met Sigurd's eyes was no longer clear, or full of bite and sass. It had a hazy and dull quality despite the reflections of light in them, cheeks dusky and lusting, long lashes that blinked along with slightly twitching legs, belonging to a body that wasn't used to this sort of thing.

Poor Lars felt like he was going to break, and lifted his head up to say something, but he couldn't. Luckily Sigurd was paying attention, and he sat up to see his love eye-to-eye. "Is it too much, Lars?" he whispered gently, one pale hand reaching up to free his boyfriend's mouth.

"Ah...no..." The Dutchman swallowed thickly, and let his head fall back with a certain amount of umph. "It feels....good...."

Sigurd listened to how shaky Lars' voice was, low and wavering, and he sat up a little more. 

"Y'should tell me if it's too much..." he gently suggested.

"I'm...fine..." the green-eyed man stubbornly said, even going so far as to roll down onto the toy, trying to show that he could take it. "A-ah, fuck! S-see I can, it... hah, it's not...."

Sigurd's brow screwed up with skepticism, giving Lars one of his notoriously critical looks, teasing him onwards just by his refusal.

" _Kut_ , Sig, I... just...." Lars all but whined. "Turn it on, please, _ik wil het_...!"

The Norwegian smiled coyly at that, planting a gentle kiss on his man's chest. "Well...since you asked for it nicely, and you seem to be enjoying yourself, I'll give it to you."

Sigurd returned to his perch beneath the Dutchman's lower body, looking for a button on the bottom of the toy. When he found it, his gaze returned to Lars' eyes. "Hope you're ready..."

With his look on his man full of love and adoration, Sigurd went ahead and turned the vibrator on to its lowest setting. The effect on Lars was almost instant, the man jerking up from the bed and letting out a long and quiet moan, on a tall vowel.

After that, the shorter got up on his knees. "Lars, that was such a beautiful sound y'made."

The praise got the attention of his partner, who looked up with a foggy mind, barely able to form a coherent word in his current state. The Dutchman watched, in his throes of pleasure, as Sigurd cast aside his own nightrobe onto a bedpost, sitting up so he could give a clear view.

Between Lars' legs, Sigurd palmed himself, working up his hardness further, maintaining a vulnerable eye contact with his boyfriend, putting on a show. He let the sounds out, without control, a "fuck, Lars!" here and undecipherable noises there. "You.... a-ah fuck... you... make me... so.... happy.... uff...."

Wide eyes with a rejuvenated sharpness of excitement... that was all that Lars could respond with, before the Norwegian had stopped handling himself, and turned the toy up a setting.

Now Lars got really vocal. Sigurd could usually tell when the man was about to lose his damn marbles in the middle of sex, and this was right about that time.

The man's moaning and twitching came to another peak, stuttering voice creaking out of his mouth in desperation, and the repetitive call of Sig's name under his breath.

It was the blonde's kind of auditory cocktail, just what he needed to get going.

Sigurd quickly fumbled with the fixtures around Lars' ankles, and once they were free, he rode them up onto his shoulders without another breath. He barely remembered to lube himself up, before hands were pulling the toy out, and replacing it with the warm hardness of Sigurd's own manhood.

As soon as that vibrator was turned off and cast aside on the ever-dirtying sheets, Sigurd made no second-guess of seating himself deep into Lars' body, with the Dutchman's voice going immediately up to a tenor range.

Lars tried desperately to control his breathing, even as his boyfriend rammed into him with a passionate intent. His head fell to the side weakly, moans continuing to squeak out, and the entirety of his body shivering with every smack into him.

A whole gang of curses were coming off of Sigurd's lips -- where once there was caring sweetness and more romantic behavior, the man was now dialing up the rough-and-ready and throwing his weight in.

Sweat dripped slowly down the Dutchman's forehead, eyes closed in overwhelmed delight, and long legs curling around the back of his lover, desperately pulling him in to the entire hilt. There was no longer really any coherent thought running through Lars' brain now, because it felt that good!

"Hn... hn... ngg... fuck..." Sigurd muttered, leaning down to lap at one of Lars' nipples again. "Y'takin'... me.... so... well... Lars!" He rocked forward again, knees bent on the bed sheets, feeling a bit of lube dribbling down one of his legs.

Lars gasped mid-breath at the sensation on his chest, a keen noise coming needily from his throat again, and he pushed his chest upwards in a desperate effort to get more, more!

At that, Sigurd pulled out, tutting under his racing breath. Even though his own cock was rock hard and threatening to release, he wanted to keep drawing this out as long as possible.

It was an unestablished contest of endurance between the two of them.

Sigurd leaned up and pressed himself fully onto Lars' abdomen, moaning breathily as he did so. " _Faen...! Åh min gud, Lars_!" Slick member rubbing up against his boyfriend's, and the two made heated eye contact.

A couple of tears had slid out of the corner of the taller man's eyes, and he desperately wanted to talk back, but the ascot in his mouth kept that from happening. Lars' voice made some serious muffled efforts in trying to say something, and he sent an imploring emerald gaze towards Sigurd.

The Norwegian leaned up as he continued his motions, their bodies coated in a shiny veneer of sweat. Gelid fingers curled again around that kerchief, bringing it down and bringing it out, where 'it' was what Lars needed to say.

"Sig, unf...! Put it back...! In me....ah!" Each roll of Sigurd's cock on Lars made their bodies twitch with delight, stuttering the Dutchman's voice as it kept cracking and hoarsely falling back. The restrained man felt like he was going to break open if Sig kept this touch-and-go pace up, body beginning to ache in a strange mix of pleasure and pain.

The begging had the blonde searching for the vibrator again, turning it on and reinserting it back into Lars' ass, perhaps almost roughly, with the sensation causing its recipient to give a choked howl in response. "Is it all the way in, Lars?" Sigurd whispered thickly, leaning forward to nibble at one of the man's ears.

"I! I can't....Fuck!! I..." Lars protested weakly, his vision starting to get hazy, and he knew he was approaching his limit soon, eyes closing and head falling back again. "Oh... Fuck, Sig!!"

"Y'can take more, come on!" The Norwegian growled as he set the vibrator up a new setting, before straddling himself over Lars' member hastily, and taking some lube and stretching himself minimally. "I'm gonna ride y'until it fucking hurts, an'...Hnph! Y'gonna like it!"

Lars could feel his heart threatening to rip right out of his ribcage as vibrations echoed into his body, crying out desperately for release. "Sig!!! Sig, ah!!" A loud moan purred out of the taller's throat as he felt an immense warmth enveloping his member, and then he knew that Sigurd had taken him in.

The Norwegian's breath was quite audible in the room as he began to bounce back and forth, taking in his boyfriend's girth with practiced ease, feeling a slight burn from not stretching enough. " _Åh Lars... åh, åh... så stor... du e så stor_ , hnn!" Sigurd's red face tipped back and panted, bangs falling out of the way to show that the Norwegian was just as overwhelmed.

Lars' teeth began to grind together, hazy brain processing ravenously as Sigurd gave him a lustful look, as the shorter clamped down on the cock inside him, increasing the pace and the sounds that came with. " _Kom nå, Lars, vær så snill....kom.... åh! Min gud_...!"

"Sig!! Ah, fuck!! Fuck!! I'm... fuck!! Harder!" Lars's shoulders writhed against the sheets when his boyfriend placed his cold hands on the abdomen beneath for support, leaning forward clandestinely and grinding up and down, faster, faster.....

" _Ja... ja..._! A-ah! Ah!"

Lars' vision was beginning to fail him; Sig was riding him so thoroughly that for a split second, the Dutchman thought he might faint out of the sheer sensation of it all! The only thing keeping him from knocking straight out was the desperate tone in Sigurd's voice, fluttering and orgasmic, so close to the both of them breaking!

" _Åh! Lars, nå, åh_! _Å-åh_!!"

"Sig...urd!!! Hnph! Hnn!"

Lars used his legs for leverage, now that they were free, and hoisted his throbbing mass further into Sigurd, striking on his prostate -- like hammer on hot iron -- as the other was coming down, resulting in an absolutely delicious cry tearing itself anew from Sigurd's glossy lips!

" _Å-åh_ ~!!! La-ars!!!" Sigurd's eyes squeezed tightly shut, "Fuck!!! _Jeg._..! _Åh gud_ ~!!"

"Sig!!! _Ik ga_ \--!"

But Lars couldn't end his statement. Sigurd all but slammed down on him, and the man practically yelled his voice out, unloading inside of his boyfriend while stars danced across his eyelids. The Dutchman's breath was on fire, chest heaving wildly like he had just crossed the finish line of a damned marathon. It felt like someone had took a fucking propane tank and lit the whole house up!

Sigurd didn't look that far off either, and with an agonizing cry, an obscene "AH~!!", his eyebrows furrowed tight, Sigurd rolled down and hit his most sensitive parts again, cock releasing ribbons over the defined muscles of Lars' glistening stomach. His head tipped back as he struggled to catch his breath, rolling again, and again, digging all the pleasure into him.

Lars looked up incredulously as his boyfriend kept going, even though they'd both finished, and his raspy voice stuttered out. "Fuck~! What...!"

The Norwegian gasped, arms wobbly from fatigue, as he continued riding on that member, innards filled deliciously. "Y've more! _Kom nå_ , Lars, keep goin'!"

His body couldn't stop twitching from the over-stimulation, mind blown, and Lars desperately tried to keep up the pace with Sigurd. At first his hips would come up in unstable intervals, body on overload as his cock was teased at again, vibrator still whirring fully inside of his ass.

Then the exhaustion began to set in, and all Lars could do to show he was enjoying it was make hoarse noises through his lips, body rocking on the sheets as Sigurd continued to take him, and take him, and take him!

At some point, that orgasmic drive finally kicked in again, and Lars howled, body jolted, and his member released a second time, the both of their nether regions covered in an absolute mess.

Sigurd purred out another vowel, and there came a bit more white on Lars' chest, before things were finally over, and the Norwegian sat back languidly. " _Åh_ fuck, Lars...." His eyes wandered down to Lars' heaving body in a mental fog. "Fuck...."

"Haah... hn... un...tie... me..." the Dutchman rasped almost inaudibly. " _Als...jeb...lieft._..."

Sigurd nodded without a word, breath whirring heavily as he slid off of his boyfriend's body, sitting on the side of the bed because he was too weak to stand fully. With shaking hands, his fingers unloosed Lars' body from the bed, and the other turned over to shake the ropes onto the floor. "Now..... get the...mm....get the toy, Sig..."

And that was taken care of as well, the Dutchman releasing a quiet moan when the toy was turned off and slid out from his body.

"C'm'here," Lars whispered, hands running along his man's legs sweetly, "Lay down."

The blonde, face rosy from exhaustion, didn't need to be told twice, pushing the lube and toy onto the floor without a second care, and collapsing down onto the bed beside his soiled partner.

"Hope it was... worth it..." Sigurd whispered to the man's face, hand coming up to splay in the cooling semen on Lars' chest. "I'm... too tired to clean... up..."

"'S fine. We can...mm....do laundry tomorrow... 'N shower." Lars pressed a chaste kiss to his twitching boyfriend's forehead, using the rest of his strength to pull the blankets over them both.

And just like that, the both of them conked out.

Lars' nose was nestled into Sigurd's hair, and Sigurd was curled by Lars' side, their breathing rasping into the darkness, and the ascot still tied endearingly around Lars' neck.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: // Saved these until the end for immersion's sake
> 
> Dutch:  
> kut! = fuck! (exclamation)  
> ik wil het = I want it  
> alsjeblieft = please  
> ik ga = I'm going (to come)
> 
> Norwegian:
> 
> faen = damn  
> åh min gud = oh my god  
> du e så stor = you're so big  
> kom nå = come now  
> vær så snill = please  
> jeg (kommer) = I'm (coming)


End file.
